


It's All In Your Head

by kissedbythegods



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissedbythegods/pseuds/kissedbythegods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Norwegian comedians strike gold with a viral video in Fall 2013, bringing an unanticipated amount of interest to their humble talk show. But that's not all that's unanticipated - brothers Bård and Vegard, along with their longtime friend and collaborator Calle, start to experience other acting gigs that they never signed on for. Read on for the rest...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this is going yet, it was just an idea that popped into my head and that I am toying with. I know that it sounds like I'm bashing fic and its authors, but to be clear, that is absolutely not my intention at all! 
> 
> The story is not coming out as funny as I had hoped; I'm hoping that's just because it's in the exposition stage. In my head it's absolutely hilarious that every time someone writes a fic, they get pulled from wherever they are to go and perform in our fantasies. 
> 
> This first chapter is going to be awkward and weird because I was sending it as an anonymous story on Tumblr. Hopefully now that I have an account here, I will be a lot less limited by character counts and formatting. 
> 
> So please, keep this in mind as you read this. Even though my characters are complaining to Christine about the experience, it's not the author behind them pulling their strings to say so. I've written anon stories before, I love receiving them *cough cough* and the stories that are mentioned I enjoyed almost as much as the recipients. I hope to deal with that at the end of the story to have the characters acknowledge. 
> 
> Love to you all, and tusen takk for reading if you've gotten this far!

“Don’t forget your prescription!” she calls out to the patient who’d just walked out of her office. She plucks a pen from the receptionist’s desk, signs off on the printout she’d collected, and hands it to her client. “We’ll see if this will help at all. I’d like to see you again in a few weeks’ time to see if you’re doing any better.” The client thanks her, tucks the script in their backpack, and skulks out the door.

“Who do we have next?” she mutters to herself, scanning over the schedule. “It’s a group session?” she asks the receptionist quizzically. “Yes, they called a few days ago, remember? They insisted on being seen together.” She frowns to herself, not quite sure what was waiting for her at her next appointment. 

She pauses for a moment at the two way mirror to see what she could gather about them before walking in. Her face was up close and personal with a cascade of ebony curls and Nutella eyes. “I bet you guys this is a two way mirror,” he called out to the other two, the caramel-haired one sitting on a chair, his arms crossed, and the platinum haired one pacing behind the chairs, occasionally stopping to read the degrees on the wall or to examine the artwork, only to start pacing furiously again. 

She returns to the waiting room, and from the waiting room to the hallway lined with exam rooms. She stops before the first door, adjusting her blazer, smoothing out her skirt, and taking a deep breath. She knocks on the door and pokes her head in. The trio turn their heads towards her in unison.

"Good afteroon, gentlemen." She walks in, and closes the door behind her, hugging her notepad to her chest. She opens her notebook. "Which one of you is Carl?"

"Calle." The platinum-haired one corrects her. He nods once, sternly. "Calle," she repeats, memorizing his nickname. "I'm Dr. Blanchard," she offers, extending her hand for a handshake. "Christine, yes. I saw," he said, pointing towards her diplomas.

The other two men approached the doctor during her exchange with Calle. "Hei," said the taller of the two. "I'm Bård." She resists making a joke about how the appointment had only just started. "Nice to meet you, Bard," she said, not noticing that she'd butchered his name a little. "Dr. Blanchard," she said as she shook his hand. She looked at the third man, the one she'd seen in the mirror. "And you must be..." she began, looking through her notes. "Vegard," he answered before she had a chance to look it up. "Right. Very nice to meet you, Vegard," she said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Please, all of you, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the comfortable sofa in the middle of the room.

They make their way to the couch, Vegard and Calle on either end, with Bård in the middle. Christine takes her seat in the armchair facing them. She crosses her legs at the ankles and sets up her notebook on her lap. Clicking her pen, she delves in. "So, what, might I ask, brings you here today?"

The boys look at each other, almost arguing telepathically as to who should speak first. Vegard starts rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. Bård lays back into the pillows, crosses his arms across his chest, and stretching out, crosses his legs at the ankles. Calle leans his head into his hand, which is propped up on the arm of the couch. "Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight," thinks Christine. "This'll go really well." 

"We came to you because we heard you were open-minded." began Vegard, tentatively. "Yes, it's something I take great pride in," Christine agreed, nodding, encouraging him to continue. She leans in to listen more closely. Vegard bites his lip. "It just doesn't make sense!" interjects Calle, as he pushes himself up and starts walking pacing around the room. "I guess the obvious question here is WHAT doesn't make sense," questions Christine.

"How is it possible, Doctor, to show up and live through a person's fantasy?" asked Bård. Christine was taken aback by the question. "I'm not sure what you mean," her face almost scrunched up into a question mark.

"Last night, I'm relaxing at my home in Oslo. My wife is reading some design magazine or another. I'm practicing my guitar. And then I blink, and I am in some non-descript apartment building, hauling Ikea furniture up flights of stairs." Calle stops, glares at Vegard, and reaches into a pocket to produce a cigarette. "Fucking hell."

"I'm sorry, Calle. You can't smoke in here," she calls out. He scoffs and shoves the cigarette back into his pocket. "Please continue, Vegard." Vegard inhales sharply. "So I'm moving this Ikea furniture up the stairs, for some girl named René - never met her in my life - and then this asshole opens the door," he explains gesturing to Calle, "and asks us to pay the toll."

Christine squints from behind her glasses, "Okay, that must be some kind of joke between you two?" Calle throws his hands up. "No, I made them kiss me, Christine" Calle sneered, with extra sarcasm dripping on her name. "And it didn't stop there." Christine cocked her head to the side. "It's not unusual for friends to dream about the same things..." she began.

"No, it wasn't a dream, Doctor," Bård countered, sitting up all of a sudden, his elbows leaning into his knees. His right hand is punctuating his words as he speaks. "These are fantasies - somewhere out there - and we are being plucked out of our normal lives to go and act in them."

Christine's lips can't help but furl into a little smile, one that does not go unnoticed by the guys. Vegard looks down and laces his fingers together. Bard runs his hand through his hair and looks to the side wall. Calle is the most agitated one. "I fucking knew this would happen, that no one would take us seriously."

She swallows back the rest of her smile, internally kicking herself for allowing her emotions to get in the way of this session. "No, I'm taking you seriously, I promise. Bård," His head spins back to her at the mention of his name. "So you've experienced this too?"

He nods. "Yeah. There was this time where I was sitting in our office, just working on banter for our Oslo show, and all of a sudden, I'm at a wedding, picking up a girl with lots of make up, giving her a foot massage, and..." his voice trails off. "You've got to understand, Doctor, it's not that I don't like the attention, but my wife and I, we've been through thick and thin together and I would never do that to her.”  
"But you did," she confirms. Bård casts his eyes down. "Yes ma'am. I did. It's like I wasn't in control of my actions, and I was playing along to someone's every whim." Christine starts taking furious notes, her mind racing with all kinds of possible scenarios as to what this could be. "Wait... that sounds strangely familiar to me. Was I there with the René girl too?" Calle asks.

"Come to think of it, I think the girl mentioned something of the sort. They were friends, maybe?" Bård revealed. "At least you guys get one night stands," Vegard interrupted. The focus shifted to him. "Yeah. I recently had a three day affair with someone in Ibiza. That one has no end in sight."  
"Three days, huh?" Christine questioned. "Did you need any... assistance?" Vegard took a second to rein in his annoyance. "I'm going to pretend that that was a legitimate question," he snips, "and no, we don't need any help in that department. Apparently we're ready to go, whenever, wherever, for however many times. And we're machines - I suspect my wife could only dream that I'm that good!"

Bård punches him in the arm. "Dude! Careful what you say! We don't know what sets this thing off!" Vegard grabs his throbbing bicep. "Right. Sorry." Christine scans the pages of notes and questions she has. "I don't even know where to begin with all of this," she mumbles, almost forgetting about the three sets of eyes hoping to get answers from her.

Despite desperately wanting to get to the bottom of this strange case, Christine's eye catches the clock on the wall and she realizes the appointment is almost up. "I hate to do this," she sighs, "but we're going to have to wrap this up.... just for today." All three men objected. "But we haven't even really gotten to anything yet!" "We're no further to getting any answers."

"And unfortunately, due to the complexity of everything involved, I will need to do some additional research before I figure this out. You will just have to trust me." She stands up, and shakes each of their hands. "I really enjoyed meeting each and every one of you. Talk to Leah at the front to see if she can't schedule you in for some time tomorrow." Before they could protest further, Christine rushed out of the room.

Once the door was firmly closed behind her, she leaned against it. "What. The. Fuck."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No further ahead than their last appointment, the boys arrive at the Doctor's office to see if she has any news on her end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting somewhere - time for a little fun after this!
> 
> Comments make the world go round, friends :)

Christine worked diligently that night. The whole story that they were proposing made absolutely no sense, and as far as she could tell, there was no scientific, medical, or psychological explanation for it. The likelihood that they were sharing the same delusion was infinitely slim. She wasn't convinced that this was a delusion, because the sincerity of their recounting and the emotions put on display convinced her that this was not something that was all in their heads. She poured over her reference manuals and psychological journals to no avail, and when she saw the first glimmers of daylight pour through her office window, she sighed, sorted out her questions, tidied her office, and briefly left so that she could go freshen up and grab some coffee for the day ahead. 

The strange trio had managed to snag one of the earlier appointments. They were so deep in conversation that they didn't hear Christine when she knocked on the door announce her arrival. She took a moment to observe them. Calle, much like yesterday, was the most agitated about the whole situation. He was frustrated that they hadn't figured it out, and he was skeptical that this random doctor could help them at all. Bård us remaining casually detached; he’ll buy into it when he sees something, anything that they could work with. Vegard is the weak link that Christine can work with. He’s her lifeline, who, out of desperation, wants to find the science behind the symptom so that it can be treated and cured. She knew it would be an uphill battle. 

Gathering her thoughts, she takes a deep breath and closes the door behind her. “Good morning, gentlemen. Thanks for coming in.” All conversation ceases, and three pairs of eyes lock in on her as she makes her way to her chair. Vegard leans in eagerly. “Did you find anything?” Christine purses her lips and shakes her head. “No, sadly.” Calle snorts derisively, and Christine attempts to let it roll off her back. Bård crosses his arms across his chest. “So, what was the point in having us come back here, then?” Christine opens her notebook past all of her research from the previous evening. “Well, I was searching under certain parameters, but I get the impression that I might have digging in the wrong places. In that light, I thought today we could try to nail down the logistics of how this all happens.” Bård and Vegard look at each other, and Bård shrugs, loosening up a little and stretching one arm along the back of the sofa. 

“Did you guys see that?” demands Calle. Vegard and Bård shake their hands. “See what?” Christine asks gently. “THAT!” says Calle, gesticulating wildly. “It just happened!”

“Just now?!” says Vegard, sitting up a little straighter. 

“But we didn’t see anything!” Bård explains. 

“This is fantastic, Calle! This will help is figure it out! Tell us more about it,” insists Christine. 

“You guys really didn’t see anything?” asks Calle, uneasily. 

The doctor and the other two shake their heads, and Calle runs his hand through his hair. “One moment you guys are talking, and the next I’m in a car, picking up a girl at a comedy bar. I drive her to what I assume is our home, and there I’ve got dinner almost ready for us. There was a little bit about me being naked under an apron-"

Vegard raises his eyebrows and Bård bites back a smile.

"-I know, that part DOES sound like me. But the rest of it..." Calle trails off.

"So sounds like it's an existing relationship?" Christine questions. 

"I suppose so... looking back on it now, it was completely unfamiliar from here, but when I was there, wherever that was, it was so completely familiar and as if it was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment."

"And this other person, Calle, she's not your girlfriend?" the doctor asked. 

Calle frowned, and then exhaled sharply. "Not here she's not."

"But there?"

"In that reality, that's the person that I love. That's the person that I've chosen to be with. I'm completely smitten with them, and I don't hold back from telling her so. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I'm probably way better at telling her how I feel than sharing those feelings with my love... here. In this reality."

The room fell silent for a moment; even the scritching of Christine's pencil against the notepad was notably absent. Bård nodded ever so slightly and Vegard fiddled with his wedding band. 

"But you guys didn't see anything happen," Calle asked them all to confirm. 

Christine shook her head, "No. There was no indication that you'd even left us." She brought her hand to her lips as she considered the possibilities. "So, you're telling me that you just had an entire evening's experience, but it's like no time had passed? Is this what happens to you guys too?" She turns to Bård and Vegard.

"That... actually sounds about right," Bård confirms. 

"And you, Vegard?" He paused for a moment as he actually recalled the experiences to evaluate if this was an appropriate theory. "Yeah, yes. Thinking back on it... I came back to where I started and it was if time had stopped. Huh." 

"Okay. This is helpful." Christine smiled and adjusted her glasses. 

"So this means that you might have an idea of what this is, then!" said Calle, finally softening his demeanour towards Christine. 

"No, sorry. Not even close," she admitted. 

Calle pursed his lips. 

"But, it does give me more leads to explore. So, not all is lost," she added, attempting to regain that glimmer of hope in Calle, only to realize that with her next question, she might get him to shut down completely.

"So yesterday, you guys mentioned something. Calle and Vegard, that is. You had one of these experiences... together?" she asked tentatively. 

"Oh fucking hell," Calle said as he pushed himself up and took up his ritual pacing, working doubly hard to . The hair on Vegard's arms and on the back of his neck stood to attention at her words. He nodded. 

"And so, in these... experiences, much like you have these built-in feelings with these girls you don't know..." Christine trailed off.

"We enjoy it, if that's what you're asking," Calle snapped.

"But only there. Then we remember it here, and... and it's hard to be around each other afterwards." Vegard confirmed quietly, a hint of something in his voice... Regret? Despair?

"You too, Bård?" she asked. 

He looked down, his gaze falling on the tips of his sneakers. He nods, not wanting his words to betray his thoughts. 

"The configurations get altered often. Sometimes me and Calle. Sometimes me and Bård. Sometimes all three of us. And I'm sure that you can appreciate that while our bonds are very, very strong, they don't tie us together in that way" offered Vegard.

"I understand what you're saying, Vegard," Christine acknowledged

"I'm also sure you saw, in your charts, that Bård and I share a last name." 

She flipped forward to the beginning. "Yep - both listed under Ylvisåker. I didn't want to draw any conclusions; there could be a couple of reasons for that, especially in this day and age-"

"We're not married, Doctor," interjected Bård. 

"Related, then?"

"Brothers," they said in unison. 

"Right. Broth-ooooooooooooooh," she said as she connected the dots. "And by this you mean to tell me that again, what you feel for each other there is not what you feel for each other here, and you are left with images that you would rather forget. Got it - say no more." She snapped her notebook shut. "I'm not sure if there's anything I can do about these images that you guys have for the time being. There might be some combination of medicine that we can play around with but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that until we know exactly what we are dealing with. I want to assure you guys that I haven't given up on this. On the contrary, this is probably the most interesting case I have seen yet and I'm determined to get to the bottom of it. In that light, can I ask you to give me a little time to research and consult with colleagues to see what we can come up with?" 

"It's not like we have many other options," Calle grunted. 

"We have yet to met someone who will take us seriously," Bård remarked, a touch of sadness in his tone. 

"I'm confident you'll do what needs to be done," Vegard says, looking the doctor in the eye, and holding her gaze as she rises and walks to the door, holding it open for them. 

The brothers rise from their seats, a little apprehensive, and slowly make their way to the door, Calle following behind them. 

"We'll figure this out, I promise," she reassured them as they filtered out the door. 

The boys were never far from her mind as she breezed through the rest of her appointments that day. Once her office finally closed the staff had all left, she opened the screen to her laptop, loaded her browser and keyed in her search engine. On a whim, she keyed in "Bård Ylvisåker". There were the more official links to his website, his Wikipedia page, and his social media channels. This is where she discovered they were actually celebrities, and how she had been living under a rock not to have heard about them. "Well, maybe not living under a rock, but at the very least, on the wrong continent," she'd said aloud, to no one in particular.

Digging through a few more hits, however, that's when she hit the mother lode. Hundreds, maybe thousands of stories about her clients, some of them that she'd recognized from her sessions with them. And that's when an idea hit her. 

Clicking through the different pages, she selected her target. As she clicked the link, her speakers blared a few hip hop beats. "LET ME SEE THEM ASSES ON THE FLOO-OO-OOR!" "Shhhhh!" she commanded, clicking furiously to turn it off, but making a mental note to research more of these songs. She observed the page in front of her, with her clients smiling back at her. Finding the personal message system, she notices that she can leave users message anonymously. She toys with the idea, before she starts furiously typing, only to be limited by character count. She copied what she'd written over to her word processor to complete the story. After a quick re-read, she copied the first little snippet and pasted it into the private messaging system. Her cursor hovered over the button for a few seconds before she took a deep breath, clicked, and waited for the recipient to catch the bait.


	3. Chapter 3

_How does one get taken away to a different world? Christine closed her eyes to contemplate the question. When she opened them, lights were dimming quickly all around her. She was in a cushy red velour theatre seat, a few rows from the stage, staring at heavy burgundy velour curtains. No sooner were the house lights turned off, she could hear the rat-tat-tat-tat of a booming big band number starting up. Spotlights danced across the curtains that slowly opened up to reveal three silhouettes banging batons on the stage to the beat._

_When the lights came up, to her amazement, Christine saw Calle, Vegard and Bård onstage, dressed in top hats, tails and tap shoes, beginning what appears to be a pretty intricate dance routine, and she was mesmerised. She did it. She'd actually managed to summon them, and better yet, she was right there with them. When their number was done, she applauded wildly, wolf-whistling and all, only slowing down a little when she started to notice that she was all alone in the theatre. The guys were looking past the bright lights to see who the intruder could be, and when they recognized her... You could practically see Bård's heart skipping a beat, as he brought his hand to it to try and calm it down. Vegard removed his top hat, grinning like a mad man, taking a humble bow towards the lady._

_Calle could not get off the stage quickly enough, jumping off the edge into the aisle, kneeling before her, taking her gloved hand and kissing the top of it. And that's when she became more aware of herself. They were not the only ones that she'd done a number on: she appeared to be dressed for the encounter, wearing a long classic back dress, reminiscent of the Grace Kelly Hollywod era, with matching long black gloves that went past her elbows. For once, she felt glamourous. Beautiful. Desirable. And their reactions to her presence had only served to fuel these emotions._

_Christine glided to the stage as Calle lead her along. Vegard was waiting to take her hand at the edge of the stairs, much to Calle's disappointment, and as soon as she was ready, he spun her into his arms. They waltzed gracefully across the stage, stopping every so often for Vegard to dip her low. During one of these dips, she noticed an upside down Bård holding a solitary red rose. Once she was upright again, she walked toward him to accept it, and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. Just as Bård as about to lean in for a real one, she felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned around to find Calle with a box from Tiffany's, which he opened to reveal a beautiful pearl bracelet. He was in the middle of clasping it around her wrist when she felt a mink wrap be placed upon her shoulders by Vegard, who let his hands linger a little too long for the other two's liking._

_As loving as they were trying to be towards her, the tension between them to gain her affection was starting to weigh on her. Bård was taking her left hand to try and drag her towards him, only to have Vegard hold her in place with his arms around her waist. Calle was unsuccessfully trying to slip in between the two of them to stop Vegard's hold on her and what was originally supposed to be a romantic escapade for Christine was quickly turning into some kind of slapstick routine with these three characters vyying for her affections._

_Before she knew it, she had been cast aside as the three were fighting each other over who should have the right to her. They barely noticed as she walked off the stage, into oblivion._

_All she could hear was Bård's voice calling her name, but it was too late._

_"Christiiiiiiiiiiiiine!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! Thanks for all of your wonderful comments so far :)

"Christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" Bård banged on the office door.

"I am going to fucking kill her," vowed Calle. "I'm going to wring her chubby little neck!" he said, miming the action.

Vegard, leaning casually against the wall, rolled his eyes a little. "No you're not, Calle."

"Oh yeah, tough guy? What makes you think I'm not going to do it?"

"Because, genius. If you go and wring her 'chubby little neck,' that leaves no one to help us figure this out." Vegard retorted.

Bård did his best to ignore Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dummy behind him.

"Christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine! We know you're in there!" he banged again, ringing the office doorbell for good measure.

x-x-x-x-x

Christine heard Bård's voice, almost as if it were real. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself slouched over her laptop, her screen full of pictures of her clients and her arm covered in drool from her dream. Gone was the Grace Kelly attire she'd conjured up, she'd have to settle for yesterday's pencil skirt, crisp blouse and turquoise scarf.

"Christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" she heard Bård calling. "What time is it?" she asked as she squinted at her computer's clock. "What the....?" She must have fallen asleep writing all kinds of anonymous stories. Once she'd started, she couldn't stop - she'd even written one for herself!

She walked out of her exam room, towards the main reception area, where she saw Bård, Vegard and Calle waiting for her. "What are you guys doing here?" she said as she unlocked the door to let them in.

"You think that you can pull something like that and not have us at your doorstep demanding answers?" Calle snarled.

"Something like what, exactly? I don't understand," she said, almost hoping that this too were a dream so that she could wake up from it.

"So you mean to tell us you know nothing about that big band Vaudeville thing that we were all in?" Vegard asked, coolly. The blood drained from Christine's face. "So you do know a little something about that."  
  
"I... I'm not sure how it happened... I...."  
  
"It's okay, Christine. We're not mad," Bård offered calmly.   
  
"Speak for yourself!" interrupted Calle.   
  
Bård corrected himself. "Two out of three of us are not mad," he said, with a gentle smile.   
  
Christine rubbed her eyes and led them to the exam room, and ushering them in without a word.   
  
"So, Doc," Calle said, sitting down. "Top hats and tails, huh? Is that what you're into?"  
  
Christine gave him her best glare. "Even if it was, I don't see how that is germane to this conversation. So yes. I was doing a lot of research last night. As it turns out, there are a lot of people who have opinions on what your adventures away from the camera might look like. Some innocent. Some sweet. Many that fall into neither of those categories."  
  
Bård swallowed hard, as Vegard's cheeks turned red. Calle crossed his arms defensively.   
  
"So that's what you're dealing with."  
  
The three looked at each other.   
  
"I don't understand," Bård admitted.   
  
"Fanfiction. I have no idea how, or why, but whenever someone writes fanfiction, you guys seem to end up there."  
  
The boys stayed silent for a moment. "These are the fans writing this stuff?" Vegard finally asked.   
  
"Apparently." Christine confirmed.  
  
"But they know we're married!" He challenged.  
  
"Yes, but in another world, you guys could be single, and therefore, available to love them." She could tell that they were having trouble consolidating the supposedly loving act of writing fan fiction and what it was doing to them.   
  
"Listen, guys, keep in mind that they have no idea that you guys are actually pulled from your reality for this or that you guys remember everything that goes on. For all they know, they are just writing a story to entertain their friends or to make them happy. That's not a bad thing in and of itself, right?"

Vegard sighed. "But some of them seem so real, Christine. It's one thing when we're taken to another plane of existence, or whatever, and we're doing things that we would know would never happen. We remember them, it's annoying and problematic..."  
  
"... but then there are other stories." Bård continued. "Stories that seem so real and terrifying. There's one of them that was written about Vegard going off to war and me being left alone to run my own show..."  
  
"Running your own show is terrifying, Bård?" Christine interjected.   
  
Bård pursed his lips while formulating his thought. "You know, just read the story. It will all make sense."    
  
"Or there's that story with a crazy Norges Hergliste interview! The one where you I got stabbed and you got PTSD..." Vegard stopped his hand as it was instinctively reaching towards his ribcage, almost feeling for a scar that was never there except in his mind, and in the mind of the writer that put it there. 

"So what do we do, then? Do we just keep letting this happen to us?"   
  
"No. No, we do have to deal with the issues that are coming up for you... it does seem that at the crux of it, if I'm understanding correctly - the actions are not interfering with your daily routines as time seems to stop while you are experiencing these stories. The problem comes after when you are remembering them, even though you are not in control of your own actions or thoughts, you feel as though you are doing things that you would never agree to do in real life. Is that correct?"  
  
The guys nodded their agreement.   
  
"So then the treatment will have to be something along the lines of allowing you to forget about the experiences. Whether it's an exercise that you can do right after to train your brain to forget, whether it's medicine.... I'm not sure that that's going to look like yet." Christine admitted.   
  
"Yes, but wouldn't the obvious solution be to find out what is causing this and stopping it?" asked Vegard.   
  
"It would be, if we knew what we were dealing with. This is a pretty strange case, you have to admit."  
  
"So what are the next steps?" Bård was eager to find out.  
  
Christine thought for a moment. "Well, I was hoping to touch base with some professional circles to see if they had heard of anything like this. If my research is any indication, Loki and his brother from the Thor movie would have had this happen. Ditto times a million for those brothers from that Supernatural TV show! That'll be step one. I do have some ideas for some exercises we can work through, but, if it's alright with you guys, that can wait until our next appointment? There are a lot of options that I want to look into more deeply. But first, I have to go home and get ready for my full slate of clients." She got up from her seat and stood next to the door.   
  
Bård followed her and shook her hand. "Thanks. I wish we were further ahead, but..."  
  
"Baby steps." She smiled. "We'll get there."  
  
Vegard was next. "Any progress is good progress, I suppose." He also extended his hand for a handshake.   
  
Calle took his index and middle finger, pointing them purposefully towards his eyes and then towards hers. "I'm watching you," he said, as he sailed on past her. They all walked to the front door. Christine was locking the door behind them when she heard him call out her name. She turned to look at him, and he did a 10 second tap dance. "Don't pull that shit again."   
  
She raised three fingers, "Guides' honour."  
  
He turned the corner.   
  
She should go home too.   
  
But she does have spare clothes in her office and that shower in the back room, and she could always get Leah to pick something up on her way in.   
  
She returns to her laptop to look up the story that the Ylvisåkers were talking about. Luckily, since it was one that was frequently referenced on her newfound website, it wasn't all that hard to find.   
  
"Deployed, Chapter 1. Let's do this."


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long while since she'd seen her trio of quasi-celebrity clients in her office, demanding answers. They were never very far from her mind, as she wanted so badly to help free them from whatever this was. Their striking looks didn't hurt either; her mind often drifted, remembering Calle's icy glare, Bård's handsome fence - I mean, face - and Vegard's combination of dark sensual features and innocent dorkiness.

She had contacted some of her colleagues in various parts of the globe. None were willing to discuss particulars, and although some hinted at similar occurrences, no one hard any insight as to what could be done to help. She still spent a good part of every evening researching, as she wanted to have something to report to them when they eventually came back. 

They hadn't returned since their last appointment with her, giving her the space she needed to figure this out on their behalf. 

Until that day. 

"I'm glad to see you're doing much better, Kendall," she said, in all sincerity, as she opened the door to the therapy room while her client gathered her things. "I still want to see you in a couple of weeks, so make sure to make an appointment with Leah here," she asked as she led Kendall to the front desk.   
  
"Christine, you've got a walk-in. Room 3," Leah informed her.   
  
She looked at her watch. "Leah, that was my break! I was supposed to-"  
  
"I think you're going to want to go in. You should see him," Leah quipped knowingly, nudging her chin towards the hallway with the dual mirrors before she turned to the patient in front of her. "So, in two weeks time we have Thursday afternoon at 4PM, does that work?"  
  
Leah's voice was trailing off into oblivion as Christine walked towards the hallway. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a mess of dark curls attached to a man, face in his hands, slumped over. 

She panicked. 

She didn't want to have to tell him that she had made no progress on their case.   
  
"Get a grip. You're a professional."   
  
She poured a glass of water from the cooler and chugged it down. She took a breath, and walked confidently towards the room where he was waiting. He barely heard her come in. From the back, in that hallway, she couldn't tell that he was crying.   
  
"Hey! Vegard! What's going on?" She rushed to his side. 

He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, shaking his head. "It's the stories again."

She'd figured half as much. 

"This one, this one in particular."

"Okay...?"  
  
"I DIED, Christine. I died. I got sent off to war, I died, and Bård was a mess because of it, and my kids..."

Christine nodded. She'd read that one too, and it was extremely hard for her to get through to the very end. Her own tears started welling up, remembering it. She could only imagine how he must be feeling, having lived through it to a certain extent.

She was tempted to joke about the good news being that he was still here, but thought better of it. How is it better to know how much your loved ones would suffer? 

"And the news lately, and the fact that we're expecting another baby..."

"Congratulations," she offered automatically, "That's great news, Vegard."

"I know it's great news, but I can't help but keep thinking about that story, and how it might one day come true, and how that baby might not ever know its father..." he trailed off and new tears started spilling out, Vegard holding in the accompanying sobs. 

Christine exhaled; she hadn't even noticed that she'd been holding her breath, even if it was just momentarily. 

"This needs to stop, Christine. I'm reliving this every day and I can't get away from it. Please tell me that you've found something that can make this stop."

"Not exactly."  
  
"Faen," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

Christine frowned, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, until an idea washed over her. 

"Vegard, how do you feel about science?"  
  
The question caught him completely off guard. "Well, I-"  
  
"I mean, from what I've observed - and read - you're scientifically minded, correct?"  
  
"I guess so." 

"How would you feel about an experiment?"

Vegard considered the question. "I guess it depends what you have in mind."  
  
Christine got up to grab her laptop. 

"We know how to get you into these messes, let's see if we can use it to our advantage to get you out."  
  
She sat back down beside him, the cover of her laptop still closed. "Of course, this is only if you are comfortable with this."

Vegard smiled for the first time since he'd gotten there. "As long as there's no more of the top hat and tails business, it's worth a shot."  
  
Christine swatted his arm. "I'm serious. Are you okay with this? Do you trust me?"

Vegard considered the question. 

"Yeah. Let's do this."  
  
Christine lifted her laptop screen, surfed to the appropriate website, and her fingers flew across the keyboard. 


	6. Noirceur and Daybreak.

It's dark. Pitch black. Nothingness. Vegard can't see anything in front of him, the shadows of his body as he looks down. Once again he has no idea where he is or how he got there, and his sense of sight was unfairly taken from him too. His hand glided to his imaginary stab wound, and he braced himself for whatever danger might be lurking in the dark. His heart starts pumping double-time as his fight or flight reflex kicks in.

His hip starts vibrating "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" he says pulling his iPhone out of his pocket, where he sees that Christine is trying to start a Facetime conversation with him. "Couldn't you have turned on the lights or something," he asks after he hits the Accept button. "That'll be your job, Vegard." 

"Come again?" 

"It's part of the experiment. I want you to close your eyes and imagine the place in this world world you most want to find yourself in. Wherever makes you the happiest, the most comfortable and relaxed. I will check in every so often and we'll figure things out as we go."

"How did you-"

"No. Don't go there. I'm the writer. I'm God in this sense. I gave you a certain power by writing it this way. Just roll with it. I'll be in touch."

With that, the call disconnected, and the iPhone reached critical battery and shut itself off. Vegard sighed. He didn't see the point in closing his eyes since it was so dark, but for some reason, gave in to Christine's instructions. It somehow felt easier to imagine what he wanted to with them closed.

He could picture white paneling, airy rooms. He smiled as he remembered the house he left behind by moving to Oslo, the house he'd put so much of his energy into making a home. He opened his eyes and he was in the living room with the two pianos - he took a moment to take it all in, with little tiny details appearing out of thin air as he remembered them. He hadn't smiled so big in weeks, and his heart sang. He rushed to the piano and plunked out a few familiar tunes. He didn't stop playing until he heard the front door open. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" He heard his little girl's voice travel down the hall and two steps of little footsteps rushing towards him. "Mamma took us to the store, and she bought us strawberries and whipped cream! Do you want to eat strawberries and whipped cream with us?" said Emma, clinging to his leg for a hug. "Hi to you too, baby girl!" he chuckled. Mads toddled behind her, holding a wooden little train in his hand. "Ap!" he said, raising his arms wanting to be held by his father, who, as usual, obliged without hesitation. He could tell by the kids' ages that this must not be quite in the present, so he refrained from asking Helene about the baby when he saw her. "Hi beautiful," he greeted her. "Did you find anything good at the market?"

Helene kissed his cheek and proceeded to tell him about all her experiences, how Emma had a potty emergency waiting in the queue to pay, how Mads had a meltdown for losing his train until he saw that Mamma had left it in his car seat so that it would not get lost, how she'd seen the most beautiful antique sideboard to put in the dining room that he would just love. She settled the kids in with their snack and he just took it all in. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this place. 

"So I was thinking, after the kids go down for their nap this afternoon, we should talk." We. Should. Talk. Nothing strikes more fear into a man's heart as much as those three two words in that particular succession do. Especially when that man is Vegard Urheim Ylvisåker. His blood froze in his veins. Helene rolled her eyes. "Come on, Vegard. Don't be like that, it's not as bad as you think."

Except it always was as bad as he thought. As much as he had made progress in the time they'd been together, communication has never been and likely will never be Vegard's forte. Well, at least when it concerned flowery matters like feelings and the like. He could explain technical matters at great length, and would do so to anyone who would listen (or who would be foolish enough to invite the subject) but touchy feely emotional stuff? Only when absolutely necessary, and Helene's demeanour indicated this was one of those times.

"Yeah. Fine. I guess." He followed Mads to the living room where his little man was scouring through his toybox to find a toy airplane. "Now that's more Daddy's speed!" He picked up his son, laid him onto his arm so that the little guy could be his own airplane. "Air Mads, destination FUN!" he announced as the boy dissolved into a hearty belly laugh, soaring through the air. Mads' laughter always cured what ailed Vegard. 

-x-x-x-x-

"Daddy, can you read it again please?" Emma borderline whined. Laughing in exasperation, "Emma! I just read it to you four times." She looked at him furtively. "Please, Daddy?" He sighed. "Come here, you." He pulled her onto his lap and turned the book over. "Ikke gi opp, Josephine! by Hans Wilhlem." 

"Okay, my sweet peas. Time for a nap," Helene called as she appeared in the living room, drying her hands with a tea towel. Saved by naptime, thoght Vegard, forgetting about what comes next.

"But I'm not tired, Mamma!" cried Emma. 

"Tell you what," Helene bargained, kneeling down to her level. "I know you're getting to be a big girl, and big girls don't have to sleep as much. But what I do want you to do is go into your room and just have a little quiet play time, just to relax. Does that sound okay?"

\------  
Emma thought about it, and when she thought about her doll in the toy bassinette, her face lit up. "Okay, Mamma. That's a good idea!" she said, racing up the stairs. 

"And you, Mister Mads! Is it time for a diaper change and then to go down for a nap?" she asked him. Although he is not very talkative, he understands perfectly well. He put his toy cars in their little basket and marched to his mother. "Are you going to say bye bye to Daddy?" Taking Mads in her arms, she lifted him so that he could plant a sloppy kiss on his father's cheek. He waved a little "Bah" from the wrist and Helene disappeared momentarily. 

Wait. Naptime. Talk. Vegard's chest suddenly tightened a little, remembering. 

Right on cue, he felt his phone buzzing. A text read "You're in charge of this. You don't have to go along if you don't want to."

"... but if I don't go along, I'll never hear the end of it," he texted back. 

The TV facing him turned on without any outside assistance. Christine was on it, getting her makeup done in a news studio, as if she were an anchor of some sort. "You know that this isn't reality, right? Your kids look about 2 years younger than they should be currently. You're not even living in this house anymore! This is all a figment of your imagination, created from your memories. Your actions have no consequences. Experiment! If you really don't want to do this, find a way to get out of it!" 

Vegard could hear Helene's footsteps coming down the stairs. He scrambled to find the remote to either turn off the TV or change the channel, and in one last act of desperation, he willed Christine act like an actual newscaster and give the midday report in flawless Norsk. "Anything interesting on the news?" asked Helene as she leaned against the arch. "Nada," answered Vegard, noticing that another wish of his had come true, him finding the remote under his thigh. He used it to switch off the screen. 

"So about that talk..." Helene initiated. "Nope. I don't think it's a very good time for it, Helene." She registered his request for a moment. "Okay, fair enough. I'll be upstairs looking over my design magazine." She pecked him on the cheek and retired to their bedroom. 

Stunned, Vegard just watched her leave. "What? No argument? No nothing?"

"See? You're a natural at this lucid dreaming thing!" Christine congratulated Vegard, where they were both now sitting on the red sofa from the comfort in her interview room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep writing this part, and then running out of time, cancelling out of the page and letting my idea sit. 
> 
> Now I have the time and the focus (as I'm trying to ignore other stuff)...
> 
> ... hope you like it!
> 
> PS: Thanks to Tom Cavanagh for returning to television and reminding me of that fantastic episode of 'Ed'! Or should I say... Ed-isode? 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHde38-L69Y

Christine took a deep breath before she launched into her explanation. 

"This was a Hail Mary for me, I admit. I was completely stumped. I couldn't think of a single physiological reason for you guys to be experiencing this, and it didn't really coincide with anything that I know about the mind either. So, I looked at the issue at hand, which was a total loss of control with regards to your behaviour and feelings and the only thing that came to mind was dreaming.. When you dream, you're just going along for the ride. Unless you are lucid dreaming - which is when you realize that you are dreaming and you are completely free to take control of the dream and guide it in any direction that pleases you. If one can master lucid dreaming, it actually becomes a really powerful tool to explore different choices in you may be facing in your life. So while I can't really explain how or why you are being placed into these stories, at least, I think, you now have the means to take the reins and exit at will."

Vegard sat in silence, nodding as he processed the information. "What happens to the story?"

Of all of the questions he could have asked, Christine was unprepared for this one. "Come again?"

"The stories that these people write. If we decide to opt out of them, does that change the content?" 

Christine fired up her laptop. "I don't think so." She pulled up the site on which her fic was posted, to show Vegard. "See? Your ending was completely different than what I had in mind." 

Vegard took the laptop, skimming through the story, in which the big Talk Helene wanted had to do with renovating the sun room to give it a more shabby chic vibe. Lifting his eyes from the screen every so often to look at Christine, and sometimes glare at her, Vegard discovered that he then argues with his wife about he cost which then culminates with her giving him the silent treatment and him turning it into a song.

He collected his words before uttering them. "Thank you for... for not making it awkward. And... how...?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Come on, Vegard. One, do you know how much research I've done on your situation in the past few days? Not to mention that there is a lot of information about you out there. I knew which lines I didn't want to cross, and this basically just wrote itself. And even if I hadn't, I'm a psychologist. This is what I do."

He returns her laptop, and with his hands now free, he runs his hands back and forth over his thighs. "So what next? What's the plan?"

"Well, I'm glad to see that this little innocent experiment turned out well. Are you ready for something a little more intense?"

Now it was Vegard's turn to exhale as he pondered the implications. "It seems to have worked so far. I guess so," he said tentatively, which, once resolved to go through with this, he followed up with a vigorous nod of confirmation and consent.

"I should warn you, that, in order to allow you to get more practice at this, I have not inserted myself to hold your hand through it. Are you sure you will be okay?"

"Don't make me second guess myself, Christine," he cautioned. "Do whatever you've got to do."

"Okay then," she said, typing in the URL, and opening the document she had named "Up Close and Personal: Behind the Scenes of The Expensive Jacket Tour"


End file.
